


The Flask at Hand

by Ludella



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 10:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3131774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ludella/pseuds/Ludella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Krem doesn't know why Cole decided to join them for drinks tonight, but no one really knew why he did anything. But it was the first chance he had to sit and speak with the infamously rumored "demon-spirit-abomination boy."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Round Will Do You

The rafters were the quietest place in the tavern. Albeit no part of the tavern was completely quiet, but there was a distinct difference between the bar and the attic even in terms of temperature. The lower floors were warm, heated by busy bodies keeping together and merry with nice alcohols while the attic, leading to the ramparts, tended to have a cool air breezing through it. Both could be equally comforting and disconcerting depending on the host.

Cole usually preferred to stay within the hustle and bustle of business around the rest of Skyhold. With large crowds, it was much easier to dip into existence whenever he found an opportunity to push some comforting nostalgia to the forefront of a dying soldier’s mind or replace supplies where it had been lost. He wasn't seen unless he was needed, didn't need to be anywhere unless spoken of first. For the most part, he was ultimately in charge of when and where he allowed himself to exist. Yet since joining the inquisition’s inner circle, he had been told he should have a solid place to be found should he be needed by name.

The attic only became his “home” after he lost touch with his fade-bound side in favor of humanity.

So being in the tavern itself was, needless to say, a large shift in environments.

"To our new friend for the night! C'mon, Cole!" Iron bull cheered heartily, raising his mug high in the air. The rest of the Chargers followed suit with enthusiasm and, per usual, their merriment tended to have an effect on the rest of the tavern. A scarce patron here and there lifted their glasses as well to join in, though Cole had a feeling half of them (including the Chargers) didn't even know what they were toasting for.

He stared down at the drink in his hands, unsure of what to do with it.

"That alright, there?" Asked a voice more gentle than the others. Cole looked over just as a hand landed on his shoulder. He recognized the man speaking to him from conversation with the Bull, but he hadn't the chance to speak with him personally. Not very much.

"Oh yes," Cole immediately answered, "it's just fine. The bartender was very pleased with it this morning. It is... from a different brewery than usual, from his new daughter in-law's family; he didn't think th--"

"Easy there, boy," Krem laughed and held up his hands, effectively cutting him off. But it didn't feel rude. "Good for him, great 'n all, but I'm asking _your_ taste, not his. Chief said this was your first drink."

He stared at him blankly. "I haven't tasted it yet," Cole answered, turning the drink around and simply watching the amber circle about. "The Iron Bull drinks as celebration, when he's happy. His men are happy too. But there are some people in here who drink when they are sad. It--dulls the pain, makes it so they can't think about it too much. I am not happy, nor am I sad, so I have no reason to drink here."

It made perfect sense to him, but from the muddled feeling of confusion he could feel wafting off of the mercenary, he could tell they hadn't met the full way. The way he described his thought process caught Krem off guard, and Cole waited for him to speak first.

Krem simply laughed, shaking his head as he took a seat next to the spirit. "You're a weird guy, you know that?"

"Lots of people say so," He said matter of factly with a nod, not bothered. Cole watched as Krem brought his own flask to his mouth, head tilting back as he took a large swig of alcohol. He gave a short, blunt shake of his head after with a disgusted sigh. It seemed like it had a hard time going down and Krem nearly looked dissatisfied with it, but said nothing. "Do people say that you're weird?"

"Not anymore," came his immediate answer. "They're a mercenary group, but the Chargers have a good way of protecting their own. Sometimes more than their target." A pause to take another drink before eventually setting the cup aside altogether. Cole had his full attention. "Now the most slack I get's my heritage, and I give 'em that too."

Cole gave no acknowledgement that he'd even heard Krem speaking. Once the 'vint finished, the blond boy opted instead to direct his attention back to the flask at hand, dipping a finger in experimentally. Krem watched as Cole brought the wet finger to his lips, tentatively slipping it between his lips. His face puckered momentarily, and opening his mouth, Krem expected Cole to comment on the taste.

"Dorian likes Tevinter still. Why don't you?"

So he had been paying attention. Krem had to give him that. Curious as the delay was, he responded nonetheless. "Tevinter doesn't like me--"

"They don't like him very much either," Cole intersected, cutting him off.

Krem had to laugh at that. "A lot of people don't. And yet somehow, the chief does. _A lot_." He picked up his drink to down another swig before continuing. This time, though, Cole's eyes were fixed on him. A bit uneasily, he'd add. "Dorian still has an attachment to his family there, his past. All I've gots' some bad memories, at most some nostalgia. Nothin’ too friendly--what _are_ you doing?”

He’d gotten distracted while speaking when he turned to actually look at Cole. He wasn't sure why he'd expected a normal conversation. The boy was making some kind of… warped face, sticking his own hand inside of his mouth with as calm an expression he always wore. As soon as Krem brought attention to it, he stopped and dropped his wet fingers in his lap, shrugging. “Varric said to grab my mouth when I wanted to help somebody while they were speaking.”

It took him a moment before Krem smirked. “Let me guess--he told you to _hold your tongue_?”

Cole nodded earnestly. “Right. It’s _ill-mannered_ to interrupt people, even if they need it.” He sounded like a child trying to teach another something they had learned, though obviously reciting the words straight from a parent’s mouth. The more he thought on the analogy, the more it seemed to fit Cole and Varric, as comical as it was with their appearances.

“Well he’s right about something." Varric swung by every now and then to talk bad on their current tavern, talking up some other bar back in Kirkwall instead. Krem figured he must've been much more interesting then, less _broody_ , but figured the guy was alright. Didn't expect him to take to teaching their dear demon the ways of human manners. Manners from a dwarf--Krem snorted at the thought. "C’mon, drink up already.” Krem tapped his knuckles against the side of Cole’s tankard. He looked as if he’d nearly forgotten it, picking his drink back up on command and returning to his previous fun of staring blankly inside of it.

Krem was just about to give him another push when Cole suddenly brought the tankard to his lips, tilting it just enough for the ale to pour into his open mouth. He chuckled at the lack of reaction--that was somehow very like him, but Krem supposed that spirits weren’t very emotive to begin with. But at least the kid hadn’t spewed alcohol all over the tavern and wasted a good drink.

He lifted his own mug to take a gulp before turning to check on his companion--only to see he was still going.

Cole only tilted his tankard slightly higher every few seconds, taking the drink very calmly. His tolerance was impressive, but no one just _drank_ such hard alcohol straight up. And so _unceremoniously_ , either. Others were starting to take notice as well. The Chargers began to lower their own drinks as they realized what was happening and Iron Bull in particular seemed thrilled; Krem hadn’t seen him grin like that since the last time Grim mistook a dummy for a companion and threw Dalish over the wall into the courtyard during practice.

Krem, on the other hand, was stunned longer, given their previous conversation. From what he’d heard, Cole had trouble with eating simple meals. To be chugging an entire pint of ale--very strong ale--was definitely… something.

When Cole lowered the mug from his lips, all eyes were on him as he brought up a sleeve to wipe a few drips from his mouth. It took him a moment to acknowledge his sudden spotlight.

The room exploded before he got a chance to say anything.

“Look at _you_ , kid!” Iron Bull roared, laughter ringing higher than anyone else in the room. A couple of the chargers were doubled over in absolute hysteria, others simply slapping their knee while trying to get anything like a laugh out. A good majority of the tavern had caught on by now as well, and those who remembered who the boy was joined in on adding to the din with their own amused cheers.

Krem couldn’t help but to erupt in a fit of hilarity as well, slapping a hand over Cole’s shoulder for something to hold onto. The latter looked nothing less than dumbfounded for the reaction he had caused. All it was was a simple drink, wasn't it? And as far as he knew, he'd done so just like the rest. Unless he'd drunk somebody's else's, or did so at the wrong time, or...

Iron Bull nearly broke the table he was slamming his hand on. “Oh, just _wait_ until Blackwall hears about _this_ ; Ponyboy’s sure to shit his breeches!”

The entire tavern laughed along with him, everyone else simply joining in for mood’s sake. Most of them were probably too drunk to know what was happening anyways. Still, Krem was put at ease for the first time in forever, what with how tight everyone had been recently and, well, just about always. A good laugh here and there was never taken for granted when they could get one when--

“Krem,” Cole’s small voice caught his attention and Krem turned to meet his eye only to be put off by how… not-merry the boy appeared. His still sullen face and wide eyes were a quick way to sober up, and the tug on his armor only reinforced it. “I feel a bit… odd. Like I’m back in the Fade.”

"...in the Fade?"

"Everything uncertain, everything moving, watching, turn and its different the next, light like I could take off and yet I... can't."

If he wasn't sober before, he was now. “Whoa there, big guy, let’s keep our head out of the clouds--or Veil.” Krem shook his head, hurriedly helping Cole to stand with an arm under his shoulders. It was hard not to pay any mind to the teammates laughing at his back, but the weak spirit in his care required more attention. “Don’t pull any demon shit on me, alright? Feet on the ground.” He nodded in agreement.

Krem could tell the tavern was returning to its usual mildness as they proceeded upstairs, the event quickly losing interest as most things concerning the spirit boy did. In all honesty, he was walking just fine on his own, but something about the look in his eye--that and Krem felt it was better to trust when a demon said they were feeling bad. The less damage the better.

It didn’t hit him till they were halfway around the second floor. “Say, Cole… haven’t you got a bed anywhere?”

“I didn’t need to sleep until recently… the cats are kind enough to share theirs with me.”

“Oh, for the Maker’s--come on, we’re turning ‘round. You’ve got yourself first class reservations with the Chargers tonight…”

It wasn't the best or most fashionable of places, one he was sure that certain members of the Inquisition would draw formal complaints over, but Krem had a feeling that it'd be better quarters than the rogue was used to... Thinking on it, where had this guy come from? He hadn't ever heard anything about his background for as... unique as he was.

Cole didn't put up any restraint for whatever reason as Krem turned them around and started off towards the stairs again. Not that it mattered; as long as there wasn't any resistance, Krem had no problems toting him around. At least not for one night.


	2. Hangover

Krem had taken for granted how... awkward Cole could move when drunk. He was already fairly tall and lanky, but performed in a way that showed he was at least conscious of how long his limbs were, enough to be a successful rogue. And that said something, as he imagined it would be more difficult than not to evaluate your enemy's every move when you couldn't even predict your own.

Now, he had lost that. The longer they walked, the more dependent Cole became on him until he was all but draped over Krem's shoulder for support. Was it even possible for someone to act this drunk a mere _minute_ after drinking? Or had the alcohol even the time to reach his stomach before going straight to his head. Vaguely he wondered if it had anything to do with his spiritual nature (the specifics of which Krem had not heard, but he wasn't one for prying). From what he had heard his body was human, though...

With little trouble, he finally got the both of them into Charger quarters just to the side of the tavern. The inquisition had been kind enough to give them their own area instead of piling them in with the rest of the soldiers. It was only one room, but they'd had worse before. Much worse.

The Iron Bull took a separate room all for himself. While he had no trouble sharing it with his men, it was for everyone's best interest that Bull keep his... private affairs relatively private. Not that he wouldn't be bragging all about them the next day, but it wasn't anything anyone wanted to see firsthand. Not like they hadn’t ever stumbled upon a compromising position or two in all of their years.

The larger room was filled with six bed frames, some empty, some filled with straw, and some made up of actual blankets and pillows. The Chargers were used to sharing everything, but when it came to sleeping arrangements, it was every man for himself. Krem was fortunate enough to have collected a good few materials on their travels, always at the front of every maneuver and thus the first at grabs. His bed was probably the second best behind Skinner (hers was handmade--who had the time?) And just comfortable enough to get by.

He lead Cole to his bed as gently as he could with how the boy was struggling to walk in even steps, helping him onto the sheets. It was relatively for naught, though, with how Cole fell lopsided and turned awkwardly on his hip, one leg curled up and one jutting off the side of the bed. Krem wasn't sure what to do with the lanky boy sprawled out in a way he could only assume was uncomfortable. It'd be awkward to just grab and manhandle him, but he supposed Cole was big enough to position himself on a bed. Had he ever slept on one? He probably wa--

"I don't quite like those drinks."

Krem returned from his thoughts at the sound of Cole's voice. Glancing down at him, he found the other was staring intently across the room--at nothing, he assumed.

"Come again?"

"I can't find the hurt like this. There is... a pain inside of you, I want to help and yet I can't and yet I know it's there and yet..." His words came slightly slurred, and he sounded as if trying to read aloud while half asleep.

Krem figured he was supposed to feel endeared by his effort. “There’s hurt inside everyone, y’know. I’m happy just as I am, don’t stretch for it.”

“But it’s _there_. Deep, far down inside, tangled in everything else, always at the back of your mind, always at the worst moments to ask ‘what are you afraid of?’ when you don’t want it--”

“Just leave it there.” Krem was quick to cut him off, figuring he must have surprised Cole with how the boy’s face changed to one of curiosity. He may have been coming off as a bit abrasive but things like this--no, he didn’t want to confront them. Not right now. “Said I’m happy, didn’t I? A little struggle here and there makes the man ‘n all.”

Cole didn’t respond verbally, but he nodded, repeating a few of Krem’s words quietly under his breath as if struggling to understand them. He’d heard from the Iron Bull that Cole regularly had trouble comprehending people’s feelings, though that was more a problem of the past. Ever since he had become “more human” (once again, the specifics of which, Krem wasn’t sure) he was growing more considerate. Whatever it was, Krem was fine with letting the subject drop.

“I’m sorry, Krem. I didn’t mean to.”

“Quite alright. I’m used to people bringin’ up every touchy thing capable of being touched.” Trying to lighten the mood, Krem leaned over to gave a few claps on Cole’s shoulder before turning away. “Get some rest, you look like you need it.”

Cole was a strange young man. In reality, Krem was trying to avoid any conversation that was going in a direction he couldn’t steer. The Bull had… mentioned what speaking with him was like, giving him a reason to be cautious. As soon as he started trying to ‘help’, he was right out of there. _Even so…_

Krem stooped by the other side of the bed to grab his pack, retrieving a thin bed roll from it to lay out. From the corner of his eye, he could see Cole moving to settle more comfortably in bed, switching from laying on his back to his side with all four limbs out, returning to his back with his knees up, and eventually quitting once laying on his stomach.

_He had a feeling he wasn’t a bad guy._

“Never had one?”

“I’ve never needed one. I don’t know where to put-- _everything_ …” came Cole’s uneven, small voice muffled by the pillow his face was buried in.

The mercenary continued with his own work unfolding his bed for the night. “Try laying on your side, Cole."

Sure enough he could hear the sheets rustle as Cole tossed around a bit more until finally settling. A few more small shuffles and it ended, Cole letting out a slightly mystified "huh" noise.

"You're really very helpful, Krem."

"Do what I can."

"And kind. The Chargers always liked that about you."

That caught Krem's interest quick. He'd mostly been giving quick responses as to satisfy the boy and keep from having to go into anything very deep but--well, he had his attention now. "What was that?" he asked, sitting up on his bedroll at Cole's turned side. Looked like he finally got comfortable.

"The Chargers, they are your comrades, the mercenaries the Iron Bull runs and--"

"I know who the Chargers are, I meant the other part."

Cole hummed to fill the silence while he thought. Or, Krem assumed he was thinking. Maybe he was looking into his head again for clarification or dipping into the Fade or whatever it was spirit people did. For whatever, he wouldn't ask, but waited for him to continue on his own.

It took just a minute before Cole's smooth voice resurfaced. "The Keeper's face before she spoke it said it all, she didn't need to so I left before she could. Didn't want to hurt her or the clan so I took it instead, took it and left, took it and ran. No place for an elf in these cities, no place for a mage in the towns. Loud, bickering, but an undertone of laughter. He is smiling but I see him and I know, I know he's been through the same, we all have. Bright and ambitious Krem, what a good boy, our leader is."

Quiet.

Krem opened his mouth to speak--

"They’re no good, all of them no good. Shems put us in ‘ere, said we had nowhere else ‘n now’s all they do is take us out. Screaming and crying and so much blood but more than usual. I have to pay them back for what they did. But they are are different. There’s no difference between ear shapes, stature, culture--we _all_ have horns."

When Cole stopped speaking, he was at a loss for words. It was a lot to take in at one. He could hear the noises in the tavern from here, though he couldn't make out the words Maryden was singing this time. At the time he'd left, everyone was on their second rounds, meaning it would be a while before anyone returned to their quarters--for the better, he decided.

"Nothing from Grim?" was the first thing he asked, glancing up at Cole's bed again. He had to admit by this point he was curious as to the tales of their other members.

He had to wait a few minutes for a response, almost afraid of it after a few moments. It wasn't a surprise that with that guy Cole would have to dig deep, seeing as he rarely ever talked in front of the lot of them on a regular basis. A nice guy, but Krem couldn't help the fact he was deathly curious.

Cole choked out a grunt in the lowest voice he could manage, disturbed only by a crack in his young voice.

Krem let out a loud laugh. "Ha! That's what's on that bastard's mind, huh?" He kept laughing for a good few more beats, settling down only when he found that Cole was shuffling on his bed again. By the time he looked back up at him, Cole had rolled to his other side and was staring down at him. While his usual stare was something quite... disconcerting, Krem didn't feel nervous this time. It was almost like he was trying to smile.

"You are happy--it's good!"

Even with such a creepy, suspicious, odd little man--

"Yeah, I'd say I am."

It was hard not to smile back.


	3. A Winter-time Dip

Nothing was ever simple anymore.

The Inquisitor had heard a few concerning things about some activity in the Hinterlands, so much that they decided it would be a good idea to take the Chargers with them this time. Naturally Bull was already in their immediate party to lead them, but as it was now, they weren’t particularly… doing anything. Nothing that they didn’t already do back at Skyhold, meaning getting drunk, laying around, and sleeping.

As fun as it was to hang around with the crew all day, Krem got a bit tired every now and then. They were an honest to the Maker good group; loved them, were basically his family at this point, but sometimes a guy just needed some time to himself. And now was one of those times.

The Hinterlands was probably one of the better places they could have gone in terms of relaxation. Some places in Thedas were pretty, and some were safe, but it wasn’t very often the two overlapped. These mountains were one of the only parts, and it was a bit regretful he didn’t get to visit them all that often.

So now was his best chance to get a good look at the place. Of course, he didn’t leave without informing a requisition officer (his companions too drunk to notice) and wasn’t going too far from camp. Just a ways south was a decent sized lake he’d heard a small bit about, and it seemed as good a place to relax as any other that was so convenient. And he found it was just as nice as he heard, too. The water was cold as it was nearly sunset, yes, but mostly still, save a few rams and fennecs hopping in and out. Blood lotus peeped just above the surface, the air was cool, the bubbles appearing from below a goofy hat in the water were only occasionally present--

Wait.

That wasn’t right.

Krem was in the water immediately, thankful he had taken off the heavy pieces of his armor for his stroll. Nothing could ever be quiet and uneventful, could it? Thankfully they were by the docks where the water was more shallow, making it easier to locate and grab the sunken boy and all but dragging him back to the surface. With all the strength he could muster with the sudden rush of adrenaline, Krem pulled himself back onto the dock and hoisted the other up with him.

He wasn’t winded himself, per se, but still in a rush, panicked from finding a _drowning boy_ below the docks and--was he breathing? Krem got up onto his knees and turned to face him to assess if he was alright only to find the other leaning over the tall edge of the dock again to reach unsuccessfully for the water.

“Cole! What in the Maker--what’re you doing out here, drownin’ yourself like this? Isn’t anybody watching you?” he choked out, pulling the spirit boy back up by his shoulder without resistance.

Cole finally leaned back, not fighting back as he was lifted up, but obviously discouraged. His eyes flickered back to the water as he crossed his legs and raised a hand to brush through his bangs. “Fishing--or, trying to. Cullen said I should keep my dinner for myself, so I thought--”

It was an unspoken rule by now that, unless Cole was being watched by somebody, it was best not to bother him. It went beyond his “uniqueness” in character and the precept was more in place for the sake of not distracting the boy from--well, whatever it was he did all day. They kept him around for some reason, and the Chief made it sound like he did a lot of good. Krem had never seen it himself (he was pretty sure Bull only said so to have some excuse for the boy’s presence in the Inquisition), keeping to his own business more for the sake of not wanting to involve himself in whatever he was up to. They may have gotten more familiar the night at the tavern, but fact still stood Cole was an _odd_ man.

"Trynna--what, are you feeding those cats you sleep with?"

Cole languidly crawled a foot away to grab an abandoned pole left on the side of the dock before returning to Krem's side. The spirit fiddled with the string loosely attached at the end, obviously homemade, and began picking at a few knots.

"No, soldiers."

It wasn't the response Krem had expected. There was a small tug at his chest for having assumed the boy was up to nonsense.

Before he could say anything, Cole spoke again. His voice had suddenly dropped, just above a whisper. "A little food, but not enough, just so it can go around, just so they can say that they tried. There's too many of us to feed but my stomach aches and it presses against the wound--but if I die, others might have more..."

Krem was beginning to learn what the shift in tone meant, if his cryptic words hadn't already given it away.

"They are already refusing food that they need to give to others," Cole explained in his usual voice. "I don't eat, so it is okay. Or, I didn't. I do now."

"You need to eat, Cole."

With a sigh, he continued. "I _know_..." He sounded like a child being scolded, but his facial expression didn't change. "There're too many fish in the lake anyways, the bears can't eat them fast enough so they grow. And when they grow, not everyone can eat--like at Skyhold--so they're fine with helping two at once."

He spoke to fish now, too. Wonderful.

"I'm not very good at it, though. I fell in."

"Noticed that.” Krem gave a sigh of his own, wringing out his now wet sleeves. And he hadn’t even noticed his _boots_ were full of water and gunk as well… what trouble. “Don't you ever take care of yourself? You know it bothers your friends who have to watch over you that way." He hadn't intended for it to sound as indifferent as it did. In truth, Krem didn't _mind_ Cole--was quite fine with the boy so long as he didn't dig anywhere he didn't need to be. Maybe not anywhere near friends just yet, but he wasn't as repulsed by it as others.

"That's one of the hard parts of being more real," Cole admitted, and Krem was relieved to see any harsh tone he'd used had gone over his head. Or maybe he was purposefully ignoring it. "I never had to take care of myself before, never had to eat, or drink, or worry about being hurt--"

Krem cut him off. "And I'll bet that was your first bath just now, wasn't it?" He had to laugh at his own comment to lift the mood, stopping only when he saw Cole staring at him blankly.

As real as he was, the boy had the most... unnervingly dead features.

"First bath… do you think that makes me even more human, now?"

"Uh, not particularly."

He took it as a good enough answer and fell quiet again. It was amazing how easily Cole could divert his attention between so many things, speaking while working while investigating the environment while reading others--while, while, while. Even if Krem couldn’t understand him more than half the time, well, he had to give that to him. And perhaps… he had been a bit quick to judge. As much as he hated to admit it, what with his history considered.

"Alright, c'mon, let's get you back to the camp to dry off; it's nearly nightfall," Krem offered as he reluctantly stood. He hadn't realized how late it was until it made for an excuse--the sun was already nearly halfway down, and it'd take them a little bit to get back to the camp. And Maker  knows the Iron Bull would track him down for being out too long. Now that he thought about it--likely no one had noticed Cole had left. Even if he was more human than he used to be, it was still easy to forget the boy. How long had he been out here?

Cole stared up at Krem and then down at the string in his hands, then to the water below them. "But..."

"What's it now?"

Cole pointed below the docks, gesturing for Krem to follow and look down.

A pigeon twisted and turned its head as it pecked curiously at the metal of the hat floating by.

The water was even colder than before when Krem dipped back in to retrieve the article, as if being in the snow-capped mountains wasn’t enough already. By the time he actually reached the hat, the metal top was even colder. There was no way Cole would be wearing this. He lifted it in the air and turned to show Cole, but received no reply. He’d probably have to physically keep it away from the boy to prevent him getting sick…

“We go back to the campsite,” Krem began instructing as he waded out of the water, visibly shivering, “you find yourself new clothes, eat _your_ food, and we hang _this_ \--” shaking the nearly frozen hat, “by the fire.”

He figured a nod was the best response he was going to get. He may have misjudged the guy a few times, but, well--it wasn’t really without basis. Cole wrung his hands together as they began to walk, keeping his head lowered more than usual due to whatever reason Krem could only assume was the loss of his hat.

The Chargers would laugh when he returned. From the last time alone he had gotten more hassle than it was worth for letting Cole sleep in his bed after getting drunk, and since then had been discreetly avoiding contact with him. It nearly reminded him of peasant school days trying to avoid the child whose parents were slaves or just happened to look funny--and Krem was teetering on the edge between the “cool” kids and the rest of the poor lot. He immediately settled that it was all rather foolish and cast the thought aside, seeing as if anything, the Chargers were far more the outcasts than anyone else in Skyhold. Besides their mage or templar friends.

“You’re very kind, Krem.”

He gave a short bark of laughter. “Haven’t we already been o’er this already? Plus, I’m not the one spendin’ hours trynna fish in some dank pond for a couple of soldiers.”

“I do the work that most people can’t do, or don’t know to do--that’s why I do it,” Cole explained, fidgeting with the damp cloth around his hands again. “I don’t try to blame others for not doing it, because everyone has their own circumstances. Like you--you’re generous in your own right.” At this point, he was smiling, the expression more visible now without his hat covering his face. “You make people _happy_.”

Somehow, Krem found himself smiling back. The kind expression looked both out of place and at home on Cole’s features, but he found himself not caring as much anymore. “D’you ever have a normal conversation, Cole?”

“Oh, yes!” His enthusiasm nearly made Krem jump in surprise. Right, the excited thing was definitely new on Cole. “Varric’s been teaching me--” he cleared his throat to speak clearly. “How do you do?”

Krem couldn’t help but chuckle.

He stepped close enough to clap his hand over Cole’s shoulder a few times, inadvertently setting him off balance.

“Pretty alright. How about yourself?”


	4. Thief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is kind of short, obviously since it's been so long! But I'm finally getting back to this fic.

Krem marched his way up the rickety tavern stairs, careful of a few concerningly creaky steps. He didn’t go upstairs often, was mostly aware of the loud squeaks as people ran (or were thrown) down floors. The tavern had been built in a hurry after all, not like it was the most perfectly safe facility. Bar fights were common; repairs were not.

"Cole? You hanging around somewhere up here?" he called, peeking his head over the third level's floorboards as he made his way up. It wasn't on his own accord that he was visiting the other. Another had ordered him to do so, for what reason he couldn't particularly place. He didn’t particularly care either way, though; Krem had learned to not mind Cole half as much as he used to (he said so often, but really that whole ‘not minding’ bit was still far from ‘liking’).

It only took a few moments searching to find him, as it was amazing how well the spirit blended into the dark rafters. The lanky boy sat on the floor, huddled in a corner and surrounded by towering stacks of books as if he were in a child-built fortress. He held a volume in his hand, the cover dark and threads fringed at the corners and falling apart at the spine, yet intent on reading (or staring at some picture or another, Krem thought) whatever was in his hold.

He didn't tear his eyes away from the pages as Krem approached him. "Hey there, Cole, you wearin' any ears on your hat today?"

Cole finally turned his head to look up at the other, apparently surprised to see him standing so close already. "My ears go under my hat, though."

"Well, pull ‘em out," Krem started, crossing his arms over his chest to give an informal report, "'cause I've got a message to pass to you. Dorian's gettin' a bit pissy up in his royal tower, says that someone's been having an indefinite _rendezvous_ with all the books that he needs. And it just so looks to me,” he tapped the toe of his boot to one of the stacks, “like I found them."

"Cassandra's out in the training yard, she is not here," Cole reported instantly, expression stone as he stared blankly up at his company. A confused look from Krem prompted him to continue. "She told me to keep them for her here while she works, she did not want--to be pestered about it."

"And you... did?"

He nodded. "She reads for me--to me."

The music from below made a sudden uproar, voices cheering and singing drunkenly over a small lute. Krem could hear a few bangs that he could only assume was some drunkard stumbling about--wouldn't be surprised if it was the Bull. He'd been down there with them a minute ago and, somehow, hadn't reduced himself to such a stupor yet. But he wasn't completely sober either.

Krem turned and backed up to the wall Cole was against, sliding down until he was sitting. One of Cole's paper towers divided them with one of his spider legs sticking out into the walkway.

"D'you not know how to read, Cole?" Krem asked sincerely. It'd probably be humorous to some, but Krem had lived it, illiterate till he was nearly old enough to work. And he'd been one of the luckier.

"No, I do. But only the common tongue, since that's all that Cole knew," he explained, still holding the book in his hands. Krem couldn't tell if he was still reading it while speaking. "But I like listening to others. Their voices are nicer to hear, and they have more... something." Krem saw the brim of his hat bob as he shrugged. "Feeling. I'm not good at reading words like people."

Krem turned and backed up to the wall Cole was against, sliding down until he was sitting. One of Cole's paper towers divided them.

In a way, he could understand. Kind of. Not really--but he got where the other was coming from. "Books are harder to read than people?"

"Exactly!"

Krem brought himself up to one knee, hands fumbling to get a sturdy hold on the base of a book in the middle of Cole's stack. He pulled half of the books off, trying to set them aside neatly, though a few toppled down. More importantly, he could see Cole better now when speaking with him.

"I think you'll get there," Krem assured, "I never was very interest'd in books, but most of Thedas seems to be nowadays. Even that walking pebble with fur--Varric, I mean. Awful crass guy to get into writing novels. He should be able to help you more than anyone."

The tavern below was much quieter than it had been earlier, suddenly. And for a moment, Krem nearly swore he saw the corners of Cole's lips turn up. Then again, he was also not quite sober.

"Varric's voice suits the stories he tells, but I do not enjoy them very much... There's too much violence, too many people dying or left sad; I like happier stories."

"Suits you," Krem shrugged, not surprised. Despite Cole's... eerie nature and uncomfortably talented disposition for killing, he'd come to recognize the man was much softer at heart. All his helping everyone, outrageous actions that always had some roundabout reasoning... Krem liked to suppose he was getting a better handle on understand him, and it sure felt like an accomplishment. "Not many fairytales to come by in these times. Everyone seems to be in for the nitty-gritty nowadays, trying to make a statement to change the world or somethin'."

"Do you like those?"

Krem let out a hearty laugh, Cole unaffected by it. "Oh, Maker no. I've lived enough of it myself, no thank you. I don't read much anymore, but it was only ever small books of nursery rhymes or fairytales. Somethin' like a little hope for the downer days, isn't it?"

The images came back to him before he could do anything about it. Thin, torn up books without covers, filled with pictures whose colors had long since faded. Words that had been rewritten once they became too unclear to read, but memorized while it had been in pristine condition.

Another loud crash downstairs. This time, he was positive it was the chief, heard him laugh and everything. A yell from Sera upstairs was enough to shatter his ear before another, much louder crash followed by the elf shouting a triumphant "made it!" The bar erupted in roars of laughter and obnoxiously loud guffaws.

Still, Cole's expression didn't appear to change at all. How the spirit lived up here was beyond him. "Forgotten most of them by now, though," Krem continued, ignoring the commotion below them, "besides maybe one, and even then's just a rhyme. How did it..."

Cole cut him off, repeating the words that had just surfaced in Krem’s mind. "Oh, fair damsel of the garden, Arlessa of honeysuckle and rose, I humbly beg your gracious pardon for the offense th--"

"That here arose," Krem finished with a nod.

"It was in your heart--the words. But not the sound."

"I read to myself,” he shrugged, “parents were too busy."

For once, Cole didn't push the subject.

Krem retreated back to his thoughts. Back to books, stories, tales that raised him from young... how did the rest go? He could really use another drink right now.

"Surely your work is far too vital  
To be interrupted by one like me  
I am in no way entitled  
To earn the notice of a honeybee.

I was a fool to pluck that flower  
For my lady fair. On my honor I  
Swear to bring you dozens more within the hour  
If you give me leave to try. Or some shit like that, I guess."

When he turned to look at Cole, he found the boy smiling. No halves, no open-to-interpretation, but a full smile that lasted. It was one of the first he'd seen for this long.

"Your voice is very nice. Kinder than Cassandra."

"Only cause I know the rhythm, I bet," Krem shrugged dismissively. He was commended on many things from his form to his fighting, but something like his voice had never been addressed. He wasn't sure how to feel about it, either. Cole didn't really lie to people to make them feel better--he'd learned that by now. For what it was worth, the boy was brutally honest. And he was thankful for it, till it came to times like this that made him more... conscious. "It's easy when you get going, I bet you'd be able to learn in no time."

Cole's answer was immediate. His lips fell back to a neutral frown, but his brows raised higher than Krem had seen before. He was excited. "You'll teach me?"

Shit.

That definitely wasn't how he had intended for that to come out. At the same time, it only took Krem a moment to realize it wasn't necessarily a mistake. In fact, it didn't sound very horrible at all, past the initial panic he'd reflexively gained when being unexpectedly roped into something. He didn't mind Cole. Not much at all.

By the time he noticed Cole was still waiting for an answer, it'd nearly been a full minute. Krem eventually shrugged with a casual smile. "...bah, why not? You'll do just fine."

"Oh! Why, thank you, Krem!"

He had to laugh at the genuine, raw glee in his voice, both foreign and fitting.


End file.
